


2 Spoopy 4 U

by orphan_account



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4963936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas comes home to find Newt watching some sort of ghost show. He decides to join him, even though he's a wuss who hates anything that has to do with the paranormal. Naturally, Newt decides to be an asshole about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 Spoopy 4 U

**Author's Note:**

> For my friend, Felicia, AKA the little shit who got me to ship these two to begin with.
> 
> James Dashner is the copyrighted owner of _The Maze Runnner_. I am not affiliated with him or the franchise.

It came as a surprise to many, for reasons he couldn’t understand, but Newt loved watching paranormal shows. He enjoyed scary movies, and he liked ghost stories. His friend, Minho, had often described him as a horror junkie, not that Newt could really argue with that label. He could never explain why he liked scary things, especially since he never liked them as a child. Perhaps now that he was older he simply had more of an appreciation for them. It made sense to him, at least.

Newt had been watching some ghost show he didn’t bother remembering the name of for the past several hours; something having to do with reenactments of people’s paranormal experiences. It honestly didn’t matter too much to him. His evening classes were cancelled and he would be home alone until his boyfriend’s last class ended, although that wouldn’t be for another hour or two.

Or, so he thought.

“Lucy,” Thomas called as he came through the front door, “I’m home!”

“I thought I told you to stop doing that every time you came home,” Newt complained, eyes not leaving the television. Some kid was being pulled down the stairs, and for some reason he found it quite hypnotizing.

Newt had met Thomas in high school. He had just moved to the small town of Maze in New Jersey from London, and Thomas had nearly ran him over in the school parking on the very first day. They’d been inseparable ever since, Thomas finally asking him out on an actual date when they were juniors, to which Newt’s response was simply, “What took ya so bloody long, you shank?”

They had talked about finding a small place together all throughout their senior year, but it wasn’t until a year later that their plans finally came through. Newt’s mother was sick, so he had to stay and take care of her. Not only that, but they didn’t have many options in Maze, everything either being too big or too pricey. Their friend Teresa eventually introduced them to Brenda and her uncle Jorge, who were renting out the bottom apartment of their home. It was cheap, and the two seemed nice, so they decided to take them up on the offer.

That was almost six months ago, and every time Thomas came home he for some reason felt the need to treat it like the beginning of an _I Love Lucy_ episode. Newt would almost say it was cute if it wasn’t so annoying, but that was Thomas in a nutshell; cute and annoying. The only reason the poor brunet wasn’t dead yet is because it was technically his fault he even knew what _I Love Lucy_ was.

“Why’re you home so early, anyway?” Newt asked, lowering the volume on the television so he could hear his boyfriend better.

“Because Mrs. Niemeyer’s nine months pregnant and she thought it was a good idea to teach even with her due date coming up,” Thomas explained. “Long story short, she ended up going to the hospital.”

“Shouldn’t she have been on maternity leave?”

“That’s what everyone kept telling her! She says she doesn’t like getting substitutes because nobody, and these are her exact words, has as great of an understanding of the human body as I do.” Thomas tried making his voice more high pitch when he quoted his instructor, which Newt couldn’t help but laugh at. He hung up his jacket on the coatrack by the front door and made his way toward the couch. He made a motion with his hands for Newt to sit up a little, and in a matter of seconds he was lying down on top of him, face buried in Newt’s chest.

“You’re warm,” Thomas mumbled, his words almost indecipherable from his face being pressed against the blond’s chest.

“And you’re cold,” Newt replied with a laugh. “Get your feet off of me.” Despite his protests, Newt wraps his arms around the shivering brunet, placing a kiss on his head. It was surprisingly cold out for early October, though it most certainly didn’t help that it had been raining on and off for the past couple of days. He remembered telling Thomas to wear warm clothes this morning, but as usual it had gone in one ear and out the other. If he didn’t feel sorry for him Newt would have said, “I told you so.”

Thomas shifted so that his arms could wrap around Newt’s neck. He turned his head so that he was facing the television. “What’cha watching?” he asked. Whatever the blond had been watching, Thomas didn’t recognize it. He cringed slightly when lightning struck and a dark, misshapen figure appeared in the blackness on the television screen.

“One of those ghost shows you hate so much,” Newt said with a shrug.

Unlike Newt, Thomas was never fond of scary things. He hated scary movies and ghost stories were strictly taboo. Newt had discovered this the hard way when they had gone to a haunted house with a group of friends a few Halloweens ago; Thomas had been gripping his hand a little too tightly (he had lost all feeling in it by the end of the night) and screamed a little too loudly before jumping onto his back, nearly bringing both of them collapsing to the ground.

He hadn’t improved much since then, especially since Newt made sure never to watch scary movies or ghost shows whenever he was home, and he wasn’t about to have a repeat of that horrendous night. Newt sat up straight, which earned him a small whine from the brunet on top of him. “You probably shouldn’t watch it, Tommy.”

Thomas pouted, and Newt had to hold back a laugh at the sight. “Why not?” he asked irritably. “I don’t scare _that_ easily.”

Newt quirked his brow, giving his boyfriend that “yeah right” look. Thomas always seemed to have something to prove; probably because he didn’t want people thinking little of him. While Newt admired his confidence, it often had a tendency to blow up in his face.

“I’m serious!” Thomas insisted. “C’mon, Newt. I haven’t seen you all day, and I don’t wanna do homework now. Please?”

Thomas was practically begging now, jutting out his lower lip and making it fairly difficult for Newt to take him seriously. However, it was also getting difficult to refuse him, and frankly he was going to miss the feeling of the brunet cuddling up against him. “Well…”

" _Please_? I'm needy."

“Oh, bloody Christ, Tommy. If it’ll get you’ta stop whining like a little puppy then fine, but if you scream in my ear you’re sleepin’ on the floor.”

“Deal.”

Newt rolled his eyes and decided to lie back down. Thomas was grinning victoriously, lying his head back down on Newt’s chest. They had turned their attention back to the television. Neither of them had been paying any attention, so they weren’t exactly sure what they had missed. From what Newt could tell, a family’s house had once been owned by devil worshipers or something along those lines; now the house was full of malevolent spirits. Now the teenage daughter was being tormented.

Neither of them spoke for the next half hour, both having been completely absorbed into the show. Newt didn’t find anything too particularly frightening about it. The haunting escalated to a point where the mother contacted a priest, who then proceeded to give her holy water to bless the house. When that stopped working, she called a psychic. It was a story he had seen unravel a thousand times before and would probably see it a thousand times more, because he had an odd fascination with the strange and unusual.

When the psychic and the mother had begun performing an exorcism (or whatever you called it), Newt was sure he felt Thomas’ muscles tense up. Demonic voices began echoing throughout the house, which made Thomas cringe and bury his face in Newt’s neck. Though he knew this would happen, and he did feel a bit sorry for the brunet, Newt couldn’t help but chuckle. “Want me to turn it off?” he asked.

“I can handle it,” Thomas insisted, turning his attention back toward the television.

Newt rolled his eyes again but didn’t push the matter. He knew Thomas was too stubborn to admit he was wrong, so trying to convince him would be a pointless effort. Instead he went back to watching the television screen. Apparently the mother and psychic had made their way down the basement already, where the paranormal activity was at its strongest. Everything was quiet for a moment, but then a large flame appeared in front of them and with it a satanic looking creature that looked like something out of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_.

The image faded into blackness as quickly as it came, because Thomas had reached for the remote off of the coffee table and switch the television off. Clearly he could take it no more. “Nope,” he said quickly, voice a little more shaky than he’d probably be willing to admit. “Nope. Not today. You win. I’m a wuss. I’ve seen enough for my lifetime.”

Newt let out a laugh. He sat up, letting his arms naturally wrap around Thomas’ waist and pulling him closer. Even in the darkness they were now in he could tell Thomas was pouting, an irritable frown on his lips. Newt couldn’t help himself; he loved it when the brunet got all huffy. It was quite the contrast to his usual optimistic and confident demeanor, and it wasn’t often that he admitted defeat so easily.

A grin made its way onto Newt’s lips. An awful idea had just crossed his mind, and while he knew it was probably in bad taste to tease your boyfriend while he was vulnerable, it was far too tempting.

Newt kissed Thomas’ shoulder, taking one hand off of his waist. He was positive the brunet couldn’t see him, so he used the darkness to his advantage. He gently trailed his finger up Thomas’ neck, making sure not to add too much pressure and risk giving himself away.

“Newt, I know that’s you,” Thomas grumbled. “Cut it out.”

“What?” Newt asked, feigning innocence. If he was good at anything, it was definitely acting. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just sitting here.”

Thomas cringed when Newt lightly brushed his finger over his neck again. The blond could feel his muscles growing tense under his touch. His grin grew wider, and he just knew that Thomas was looking around suspiciously, though he couldn’t see much in the dark. It was pointless.

“S-Seriously, dude,” Thomas said, though he didn’t sound as brave as he wanted. “I’m serious. You’ve had your fun. Now knock it off.”

“Thomas, _I’m_ serious. I ain’t doin’ nothin’.”

It was rare these days that Newt ever referred to Thomas as anything but ‘Tommy’. Calling him by his real name must have finally convinced him of Newt’s (fake) innocence, because he didn’t say anything more. Newt had him exactly where he wanted him. Leaning forward slightly, he blew on Thomas’ ear, and that finally set the poor brunet over the edge. In a split second, Thomas had escaped Newt’s hold on him and ran down the hall, slamming a door behind him.

Newt could no longer hold back the laughter he’d been harboring for the past two minutes. It was terrible of him, he knew that, but at the same time it had been so _easy_. He’d feel guilty and make it up to him later, but for now he should probably coax his frightened boyfriend out of hiding.

After investigating the bedroom, Newt realized the door he heard close was the bathroom door. He didn’t know why that was the room Thomas had fled to, but he chose not to question it. A tiny part of him wanted to pound on or rake his nails against the bathroom door, though in the end he decided against it. Thomas was already freaking out and the guilt was beginning to seep in. No, he’d cut the guy a break—especially if he intended on actually being able to get inside the bathroom ever again.

“Thomas?” Newt called, knocking on the door softly. “I searched the whole house and, guess what, there’s no ghost. You can come out now.”

“You’re an asshole,” came Thomas’s response, muffled from behind the door.

“That is true.”

“You were the shucking ghost, you prick.”

“That is also true.”

The bathroom door suddenly opened to reveal a very disgruntled Thomas. Even with his features twisted into an icy glare, he was still oddly adorable. Newt had to bite his tongue in order not to chuckle. “I hate you,” Thomas stated. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, as if that would make him seem more serious.

“You love me,” Newt retorted, lips twisting into a cocky grin and arms crossing to mimic his boyfriend.

“I hate you,” Thomas repeated. “You’re the worst.” He didn’t say anything more about it. Shutting off the bathroom light, Thomas brushed past Newt and headed straight for the bedroom, presumably to bury himself in the covers and pretend to ignore the blond for the rest of the night. Newt scoffed and followed, turning out the hallway light behind him.

Thomas was already curled up in the duvet by the time Newt walked in. This was common—he loved the damn thing because of how warm and soft it was—but he made no effort to move when Newt sat down. “What,” he asked, crawling under the blankets, “are you going to pout all night now?”

“No,” Thomas answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I might get tired and take a short break.”

Newt rolled his eyes but didn’t retort. He leaned in closer to get a glimpse of Thomas’ face, but the brunet turned away from him the second they made eye contact. “Hey,” he said softly, placing a kiss on Thomas’ head. “I’m sorry.”

It was a genuine apology. Newt’s voice was too calm; too steady and kind. There was no way Thomas could have mistaken it for anything else. The brunet turned toward him, still glaring but not seething with annoyance as he had been minutes before. He grumbled something Newt couldn’t understand before sliding closer to him, wrapping his arms around him and hiding his face in the crook of his neck. Thomas was still a little cold, and sliding his icy hands underneath Newt’s shirt unto his shoulders was probably his way of getting revenge, not that the blond minded it—not too much, anyway. He deserved it, after all.

“You’re still an asshole,” Thomas declared, his hot breath against Newt’s skin sending shivers down his spine. “If you weren’t so warm I would’ve thrown you out with Jorge’s cat.”

“I’m cuter than Jorge’s cat,” Newt stated with a grin, wrapping an arm around Thomas’ waist. “You wouldn’t throw someone as cute as me out, would you, Tommy?”

“Maybe. Kiss me properly and I might reconsider.”

Newt wasn’t going to argue with that offer. He lied down on his back and allowed Thomas to crawl on top of him, his legs resting on either side of his waist so that he was straddling him. It was Thomas who closed the space between them, pressing his lips against Newt’s own with only mild force. He loved kissing Newt. His lips were soft and moved perfectly against his own, as if the two were made for each other. He loved raking his fingers through Newt’s soft blond locks, and he loved the small moans he received in return as he tugged on them gently.

Most importantly he loved Newt, and Newt loved him. When they finally split apart, both desperate for air, they simply stared into each other’s eyes, foreheads touching and small smiles on their lips as if this was their first kiss, though it wasn’t. There was no need to communicate verbally. They loved each other, and they both knew it for a fact.

"Nope," Thomas chuckled. "You're still a jackass."

"Love you, too, Tommy."


End file.
